


and all that's left

by kirael



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Falling In Love, M/M, Soulmates, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 07:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11353056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirael/pseuds/kirael
Summary: In which Aaron resists temptation and John adapts.





	and all that's left

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpeckledCoffeeCups](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpeckledCoffeeCups/gifts).



> obligatory soulmate au explanation: this is an au following smoltinypumpkinchild's example "where colour blooms at the first place your soulmate touches you"

Laurens stares at Aaron as if he’s observing a particularly interesting science experiment.

“Why do you live with him?” Laurens asks, tilting his head toward the room where Hamilton had disappeared into. “You don’t really like him, and it’s not like you need someone to help with the rent.”

Aaron gives Laurens a thin-lipped smile. He doesn’t like to gossip, especially when the subject of says gossip is in the same house. “I’ve learned it’s best to not make assumptions,” he replies.

Laurens narrows his eyes and squares his shoulders, puffs his chest out slightly and flares his nostrils. “Right,” he says.

Hamilton chooses that moment to finish doing whatever he had left to do. He sticks his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and smiles at Laurens. “Ready to go?” he asks.

Laurens grabs his hand, interlocking his fingers with Hamilton’s. Laurens pulls him out of the apartment, slamming the door shut as they leave.

Aaron closes his eyes and tries not to think about their affection, the way they move around and with each other so easily it aches. Aaron shakes his head, as if the physical motion can clear out his thoughts as well, and turns back to his work.

-

Aaron learns piano with his mother a few months before she dies, and he continues with lessons even after he moves in with his aunt and uncle. It’s traditional for musicians to wear brightly colored gloves when performing, to symbolize the love of the music, but for his first recital, Aaron rests his bare fingers on the pure white of the keys and tries to breathe.

His sister is in the audience somewhere, but he can’t see her over the blinding white light of the spotlight. Everything is so _bright_.

 _I’m crying_ , he thinks, distantly. He stands, and walks off the stage.

The whole thing seems a bit futile, after that. He quits piano and buys a pair of gloves – pure white – and ignores the confused stares he gets whenever he’s introduced to someone.

-

Aaron hates Hamilton from the very first moment Hamilton opened his mouth.

Hamilton glances at Aaron’s hands, covered neatly with dark burgundy leather, and smiles, bright and eager.

“You’re Aaron Burr, right?”

Aaron is careful not to let the disdain leak into his expression. “Who’s asking?”

Hamilton stabs his hand out for Aaron to shake. “Alexander Hamilton,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yes,” Aaron says. He takes a sip of his drink and waves the bartender over to ask for a refill. It was going to be a long night. 

-

Hamilton returns from the Schuyler party with dark blue and green staining his fingertips.

He and his friends clamber into Aaron’s apartment, more than a little drunk and fighting over the TV remote. Mulligan wants to watch Disney movies and Lafayette ends up making them watch The Office, but none of them pay attention as the conversation returned over and over to Hamilton’s newfound _soulmate_.

Laurens disappears into the kitchen halfway through an episode. Aaron finds him leaning out of the window and flicking cigarette ash onto the sidewalk.

“What’d’ya want?” Laurens asks, not even looking at Aaron.                                                                              

Aaron pours himself a glass of water, and says, “You can’t smoke in here.”

“I’m smoking outside,” Laurens says.

“You can’t smoke anywhere _around_ here.”

“That’s not a rule.”

“It is now.” Aaron considers Laurens for a moment. He says, carefully, “You must have known.”

Laurens is silent for a moment. “I did,” he says. “I should’ve known _better_.”

Another beat.

“I’d thought,” Laurens starts, but Aaron will apparently never find out what he’d thought, because Laurens throws the cigarette out onto the street and pushes himself away from the window. He has an odd expression on his face, which he quickly throws away in favor of sardonic cynicism. Laurens steps close to Aaron and leans down, taking Aaron’s gloved hand and kissing it.

“Mr. Burr,” Laurens says, low in his throat, “would you care to dance?”

It’s a bitter mockery of the way Hamilton had introduced himself to Elizabeth Schuyler. It was far less charming on him; for all of Lauren’s supposed Southern genteel upbringing, New York has managed to settle down deep within him. His smile was so brittle Aaron was surprised it didn’t shatter.

Or maybe Aaron’s just a bit tipsy.

He pulls his hand away.

-

Laurens sits at the edge of the kitchen counter and watches, disinterested, as Aaron cooks.

“Hamilton’s out with Elizabeth Schuyler,” Aaron says. Hamilton always is, these days. Aaron’s not quite sure how he ever finds the time to earn the money he owes for rent.

“I know.”

Aaron fishes a clean plate out of the drawer. “I’m not making you dinner,” he says pointedly.

Laurens scoffs, kicking his feet out and nearly hitting Aaron. “I never asked you to.”

“Then why are you here?” Aaron doesn’t mean for it to come out so testy. He spoons out the pasta – cheese he’d gotten on sale for fifty cents, spinach, tomato, penne – onto a plate.

Laurens picks up a piece of pasta when Aaron sets his plate on the counter to go get a fork. He pops it into his mouth, using his tongue to lick off the melted cheese. “Not bad,” he says, reaching for another piece.

Aaron slaps his hand away. “I made this,” he says. “Why are you here?”

Laurens shrugs, hopping off the counter to open the fridge and grab a drink. There’s a bottle of wine stashed in there somewhere, and Laurens sniffs it out easily. He doesn’t bother getting a glass; he places his mouth on the bottle opening and drinks.

Aaron carefully takes his gloves, placed delicately on the edge of the table, and puts them back on.

“Y’know,” Laurens says right as Aaron eats his first piece of pasta, “I’ve been wondering. What’s with the gloves?”

Aaron ignores him, though he does spare Laurens a brief glance.

Laurens looks down at the wine bottle in his hands, then to Aaron eating his pasta. “Hey,” he says, “we almost make up a full dinner.”

Aaron hasn’t had a proper meal in a week. He keeps eating.

-

Laurens turns up over and over again, like a bad penny, making a general nuisance of himself.

“I’m gonna keep asking about the gloves until you tell me,” Laurens says, splayed out over Aaron’s couch and staring listlessly at the TV. There’s an empty bottle of liquor on the coffee table.

“It’s personal,” Aaron replies.

Laurens doesn’t speak for the longest time. It seems like forever. “I loved him,” he says flatly. It sounds like an offer.

“I know,” Aaron says in the same tone.

There’s a large crash when Laurens gets up; he’s knocked over a lamp in his haste to leave. He doesn’t stay to clean up; Aaron cuts open his knees on the glass.

-

“My parents died when I was twelve,” Aaron says. He regrets the words as soon as he says them.

Laurens stares at him, eyes wide and lips parted in some gesture of shock.

“My uncle raised me and my sister,” Aaron continues. He opens his mouth to say something else, but there’s no more words. He purses his lips together, frustrated.

“Why are you telling me this?” Laurens asks. He looks frightened, Aaron realizes, though he has no idea why.

Aaron shrugs. “You’re here,” he says.

Laurens’s frown grows deeper. “I’m not here to listen to your sob story,” he says, matter-of-fact. “Hire a therapist for that.”

Aaron shudders at the thought.

“Hey,” Laurens says, “you wanna know what I did high as fuck yesterday?”

Laurens tells his story, and Aaron listens.

-

“You can’t smoke in the apartment,” Aaron calls as he walks in. He could smell the smoke as he walked up the stairs.

“Just something to calm my nerves,” Laurens drawls out, but he staunches the cigarette out and throws it away.

Aaron puts down his grocery bags and starts on putting them into the fridge and the cupboards.

Laurens grins when he sees what Aaron has. “You said you were making us dinner,” Laurens says. “You didn’t need to go so fancy.”

Aaron had learned to cook off of his nanny, who thought it was an important skill for a growing boy to have. He doubts Laurens even knows what a spatula is. “Consider it my treat,” he says. He doesn’t quite know why he’s agreed to this. He supposes it has something to do with Hamilton moving in with Elizabeth Schuyler and Laurens’s subsequent moping around the apartment. He strips his new gloves off before he starts to cook this time (his last pair was ruined by kitchen grease a week ago) and replaces them with a pair of cheap, disposable plastic ones.

Laurens helps in the sense that he spends most of the time calling out encouragements on the rare occasions he looked up from his phone.

“Laurens,” Aaron says, “watch the pot while I finish up with the vegetables.”

Laurens makes a face but complies.

However, a few minutes later, the sound of Laurens shouting interrupts him. Aaron turns around to find the boiled water bubbling up over the pot. Aaron practically leaps to turn the heat off. He stares at Laurens. “You’ve never cooked before in your life, have you.” It’s not a question.

Laurens scowls and stares at somewhere past Aaron’s shoulder. “You grew up the same way I did,” he says.

“Yes,” Aaron says, “but I at least have the sense to know how water boiling works.”

Laurens looks guilty.

Aaron sighs and says, “I’ll show you how,” he says.

-

Aaron feels like he’s dreaming.

Laurens stretches out across the couch as Aaron sits at the other end. They’re watching a cheesy sci-fi flick.

“I’ve never touched you before,” Laurens says, out of the blue. “We should, you know, just to check.” He sits up properly, next to Aaron, so close that Aaron can feel the heat radiating from him. When Aaron turns to look at him, his eyes are dark and warm.

“Just to check?” Aaron asks. 

Laurens smiles –  a shy, soft thing, completely unlike him. Aaron has the sudden urge to kiss him.

And so Aaron does, pressing their faces together in little semblance of order. Their noses bash together at first, but Aaron quickly finds his way to Laurens’s lips. He closes his eyes as they kiss. It’s a nicer feeling than what he’d expected – Laurens’s lips are dry and he tastes of smoke, but the feeling of someone so close to him is pleasant.

When they pull apart, there’s a splash of purple splattered across John’s nose, like the freckles he’s so self-conscious about. The freckles look like stars in the midst of a murky galaxy.

There’s the sound of explosions in the background. A spaceship crash-lands on a remote planet in the middle of nowhere.

“Right,” Aaron says, breathlessly.

“Right,” John repeats.

They turn back to the movie. Somehow, sometime as the unlikely protagonists of the film fix their spaceship, Aaron’s bare hand finds its way to Laurens’s. It’s warm.


End file.
